


Look in my eyes, you'll see my truth

by Meyers1020, TheWordsInMyHead



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon Compliant, F/M, outside pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:07:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24289429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meyers1020/pseuds/Meyers1020, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWordsInMyHead/pseuds/TheWordsInMyHead
Summary: Five times that Bellamy and Clarke are able to communicate with nothing but their eyes and the one time they need more than looks.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 10
Kudos: 174





	Look in my eyes, you'll see my truth

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea sitting in a mostly empty doc for months and then like five days ago, I realised that it really needed to be finished before seasons 7 starts. Thankfully, Meyers jumped in and helped to get it done in time. I'll spare you all the details of our awesomeness, but just know that getting her to be equally as obsessed with Bellarke as me is quite possibly my greatest accomplishment. 
> 
> Please enjoy some hope, before JRoth crushes all our souls tonight 
> 
> (Just kidding, he's already done it :sob. Thank god for fanfiction)

**Wells**

Wells can honestly say that he hadn’t thought about what Earth would be like. It was never something that interested him; conjecture was pointless when it was never supposed to happen in his lifetime No, he left those fantastical dreams to Clarke. While she’d spend hours drawing out the trees as she believed them to look, he’d settle for the plain metal structure of the Ark. It was his home and he was content with it. Or at least content with what he could make it someday. 

Yet despite it all, he can say with certainty that this isn’t what he expected Earth to be like. The trees are just as beautiful as Clarke said they would be, and the fresh air just as crisp, but underneath it all is a danger that he hadn’t thought to anticipate. 

There’s the landscape, as unpredictable as it is breathtaking, the wildlife, exciting and terrifying, but more importantly, there are the people. And he’s not just thinking about the mysterious strangers who attacked Jasper. 

If he had ever given thought to the first voyage down to Earth in nearly two centuries, a bunch of teenage delinquents is not what he would have pictured. It’s not right or ideal, but in his head the first people who make this trip are the station leaders, the ones who have the planning and experience to make the absolute best of whatever situation they are thrown into. 

_But I guess it’s not ideal to send the best of the best down to the ground when there’s no guarantee it’s even survivable,_ Wells can’t help but think a little bitterly. He gets why the council agreed to it; in a twisted sort of way he can see how it makes sense, but the cost of it all just seems too high for his tastes. 

And that’s not even because he resents being sent down here to die; it’s because now they are down here with no sense of order. It’s a free for all, and that’s not productive for anyone. It gets them nowhere. _Whatever the hell we want_ only works for so long. He can see all the ways that it’s going to fall apart, but no one else seems to care. It’s infuriating. 

_Not no one,_ he corrects himself, looking at the group around him. He knows Clarke can see the incoming storm, even if she won’t talk to him long enough for him to actually tell him. That’s also infuriating, but he understands and accepts it. If her anger is that price that he must pay to keep her from knowing the painful truth, then he’ll happily pay it. 

It’s not because he’s in love with her, as Bellamy was so quick to assume, but because he loves her. She’s been his best friend for also long as he can remember; his partner in crime, his constant companion, his other half. And maybe part of him hoped that one day they’d be more than that, partners in the truest sense, but that’s certainly not why he did it. Clarke is his family, and he would have thought that Bellamy of all people would understand that. 

Bellamy is another mystery that he has yet to understand. The more he watches, the surer he’s that Bellamy can also sense the inevitable messy end to this way of life, but maybe that’s the point. Maybe he wants the chaos. Or maybe not. For all of Bellamy’s bluster about doing whatever you want, he seems to have some very strict rules on how people should act. Some of them, like removing the wristbands, make sense if his goal is to create chaos, but others, not so much. 

There’s no reason Bellamy should care how the older kids are treating the younger or if the blankets are being distributed evenly, at least none that he can see. Moreover, there’s no reason he should have saved Clarke. He understands the instinct to save someone, it’s something that he believes is within everyone, but it was much more than instinct that kept Clarke safe today. 

Despite what Bellamy might want people to see, there’s an inherent goodness to him, Wells is sure. 

At first, Bellamy seems like a jerk, maybe an understandable jerk, like the unjustly, yet justifiably angry people Wells was used on ignoring on the Ark, but one all the same. To be fair, he still is one, but now he's also the man who saved Wells' best friend when it would have been much simpler to just let her fall. 

“We are not just leaving him here to die!” Clarke’s indignant voice breaks him out of his thoughts. He watches fascinated as she approaches Bellamy with fire in her eyes. 

Clarke has always had a habit of finding trouble despite how much she’ll deny it. Whether it was little Sarah getting her new hair tie stolen in the second grade or Billy being teased in middle school for his less than stellar dance moves, she’s always fought back against whatever injustice she saw. It didn’t matter who she was up against, a teacher, an older classmate, some official, she’d go for it. More than once, he was left to mediate her out of a messy situation. 

“Last time I checked, you’re not a doctor,” Bellamy responds, cruelly patronizing, “It’s either he dies here or back at camp.” 

No, the fire isn’t new, but the sheer force of it undoubtedly is. In all the years and all the fights, he’s never seen Clarke get quite as enthralled in another person. He watches now as Finn inches closer to Clarke, a silent show of support, but she doesn’t notice him; no, her entire world has narrowed down to Blake. 

He waits for her next remark, probably something along the lines of everyone deserves a chance, a sentiment he completely agrees with, but it never comes. Instead, he watches what is undoubtedly an argument play out on each of their faces. Her brow creases together in irritation, he shows off a smirk. She lets out a huff of indignation, and then he runs his hand through his hair in frustration. 

Back and forth they go, each emotion only lasting a fraction of a second before it’s gone. Blatantly, Wells wonders if they realize how close they’ve gotten; barely a few inches of space separate them now. He can almost feel the tension crackling between. Part of him feels compelled to look away, but he can’t; it’s impossible. 

Truthfully, he’s not sure if they are going to kiss each other or kill each other, and he’s normally sure about everything. 

Bellamy’s mouth thins into a line, his jaw clenching, while Clarke’s eyes get wider, telling Bellamy some secret message that Wells isn’t privy too. There are a couple beats of his heart and then Bellamy looks away, but he’s back looking at Clarke before the next beat. This time however it’s different, there’s something a little calmer about the looks, more conversational, less antagonistic. 

Clarke’s posture changes slightly so that he’s no longer about to see her face, but there’s clearly less stiffness to her body, to Bellamy’s too. Bellamy looks at her long and hard as if she has the answers to the universe mapped out in her eyes. Wells doesn’t know what he sees, but he must see something because after a moment he steps away from Clarke with a sigh. 

“We need to make some kind of stretcher,” Bellamy calls out to the group. 

“We can probably use some of this wood,” Clarke adds on, turning back to face him, or rather the pile of wood behind him. He expects to find a satisfied smile on her face; it’s what he’s used to seeing whenever she wins one of these fights. Instead though, he just sees fierce determination. 

Wells doesn’t know what just happened, not really. It doesn’t make sense, but it also seemed so natural. Confused, he starts to gather up a pile of sticks in his arms. The one thing he’s sure of though is there’s something special about Bellamy Blake.

  


* * *

**Abby**

Abby knew there was something between her daughter and Bellamy Blake. It had been clear from the moment she saw Clarke sitting resolutely by his side, declaring her support that first week on the ground, but it didn’t seem _real_ ; It didn’t make sense for it to be anything lasting, anything more than a passing fancy of convenience. 

Within seconds of ending that troublesome call, Abby set out on a mission to gather as much information as possible on this new man her daughter had seemingly deemed worthy. To say the least, she wasn’t surprised by what she found. He largely seemed like the average factory station boy, rough around the edges with a somewhat troubling disdain for authority, but unremarkable from the rest. 

In fact, he only becomes remarkable when his sister is found, but that kind of interesting is the last thing any mother wants her child to be involved with. From what she can tell, he’s rash and impulsive, ruining sixteen years of successfully hiding Octavia Blake by risking taking her to a dance of all things. Had he realized the error of his Mother’s ways and came to the proper authorities, perhaps she could respect him a bit more, but as it remains, he successfully imploded the lives of the entire Blake family for the sake of one night of frivolity. It's the epitome of foolishness, and everything she has seen from him since meeting him on the ground has done nothing but reinforce that perception. 

Getting into fights, using violence as a replacement for communication, reacting before he stops for even a second to think. She can’t help but wonder how he ended up a de facto leader of the hundred when every characteristic about him screams irresponsible and careless. 

Sure, she could see the appeal from her daughter’s perspective. When they met, Clarke was just newly freed from a year in isolation, and Bellamy has this enticing air about him, the quintessential bad boy, who seems to make all teenage girls lose their rationality in some way or another. No, she’s not surprised that Clarke fell for Bellamy’s charming grin, but she doesn’t understand how she could be so naïve as to continue falling for it. Clarke has always had a good head on her shoulders, once the initial spike of hormones passed, she should have been fully capable of recognizing what the Blake boy really is. 

When the Ark was still in the sky and she heard all the troubles the hundred were facing, Abby could rationalize why Clarke said she needed his help leading. He was older than the rest; a man in the eyes of the boys on the ground who would never show Clarke the respect that Bellamy could naturally wield by simply being larger, louder, and better trained. He does possess a certain zeal, a vein of passion that fuels his brash behavior that Clarke could have molded that to work with specific intent. 

Yes, Abby can see how he could have been useful. That was, after all, her thinking when she handed him and his ragtag band of lawbreakers the tools they needed to go after Clarke and the others. He was dispensable and she wanted to have her daughter back. 

She had simply assumed that her level-headed, intelligent daughter had seen what she did. That she understood that the boy himself was a tool to use in tough times, and would move on when she was no longer forced to lead. She had believed that Clarke would toss him aside when the Ark arrived to take that burden from them; allow them to establish their society on the ground under the Council’s peaceful rule, the way it should have been all along. 

While she knew that they were what you could call close, she hadn’t realized just how close, _close_ was until she started to see them interact for herself. And now? Now she sees just how wrong she was. Now all she can do is ask _why him?_

The worst part is that it becomes clear Bellamy is far more important to Clarke than Abby ever imagined almost immediately. Clarke’s asking about him, demanding to know if his group has been seen before she’s even got a chance to clean the layer of mud and blood off her face. While Abby can initially bargain with herself that it makes sense, it’s logical for her to be concerned about the remaining delinquents, it later becomes abundantly clear as Clarke runs into Bellamy’s arms that it really is just him she cares for. 

Clarke’s primary reaction to reuniting with her had been disbelief, understandably so. The first hug Abby received was when Clarke broke down in relief that they were all alive, and Abby was the one to initiate it. With Bellamy Blake, it’s relief and inexplicable joy. He walks into camp, completely unaware, and she can visibly see it as Clarke’s entire world narrows down to him. 

She tries not to be bitter about it, to understand that her daughter was emotionally and physically exhausted when they reunited, but she doesn’t quite manage it. Instead, she contents herself with never giving voice to them. 

After that, though, she watches them; watches the way they interact together and the way they interact with others. Analyzing every shift and movement, wondering why her daughter has yet to let go of the impetuous young man. Why she refuses to see what Abby herself sees. 

It is only later when Abby looks over and sees him stands sentry at Clarke's back while she begs her daughter to see reason, that she understands something of his allure. He paces, at first, looking like a caged lion ready to attack, but when Clarke begins speaking, he stands at attention. He is both a soldier and bodyguard, locked in a position of support of her daughter. 

His eyes watch them, silently judging her, distaste written in every inch of his countenance, but he lets Clarke speak for herself until she needs help. She still knows her daughter well enough to recognize the gratitude and relief there when Blake gives voice to the thoughts swirling behind her incredulous eyes. He argues without fear or apprehension, each point designed to augment Clarke’s. He is Clarke’s, and there is nothing anyone can do or say to change that. 

She understands, then, how Clarke could allow herself to rely on him. How she could want to keep him. There is something good to be said about unwavering loyalty, in how much confidence and trust it can inspire, but it is also dangerous. She suspects it is this unwavering faith that Bellamy Blake has given her daughter that has convinced Clarke that she knows better than the Council, her own mother. 

That kind of blind, thoughtless faith is exactly what she would expect from the brash Bellamy Blake she read about in his files on the Ark. He _would_ think it was logical to push Clarke to keep on this crusade of hers. If he remains at her side, it affords him a sense of importance as well. He is just too impertinent to see how wrong he is. 

They are both just children, playing at being adults and leaders in a game they couldn’t possibly understand. He is going to ruin everything they have worked so hard to build, all because he has Clarke convinced that she can and should remain in charge. The fact that either of them believes that at all just proves how ill-prepared they are to lead at all. 

Leading means making sacrifices. It is understanding the greater good and making the tough decisions to ensure that it carries on. It is about more than the individual. Blake, the man who helped hide his sister for sixteen years, circumventing the law and using countless resources to do it, couldn’t possibly begin to understand that. Her daughter, whom she always thought knew, who had experienced firsthand the repercussions of those kinds of difficult decisions and lost both her father and her freedom as a result, should have known better. 

When Jackson interrupts the conversation to say she’s needed in the med bay, she’s almost relieved. She’s entirely frustrated by the pair of them. She’s already planning on talking to Clarke again later, a time when Bellamy is nowhere in sight to discourage her grandiose ideas, but then Clarke speaks. Her daughter’s eyes are completely unreadable and her tone full of something unpleasant, unlike anything Clarke has ever directed at her, _dismissing_ her, as if Abby is the problem instead of _them._ Then, she’s just angry. Livid, even. 

She maintains her composure, however, like a responsible authority does, and ignores the comment in the direct sense. Instead, she orders Byrne to prevent anyone from leaving camp. She allows herself only two things; a stern look at her daughter and a glare that should tell Bellamy Blake _exactly_ what she thinks of him. 

Yet, she hears the murmur of Clarke’s voice as she follows Jackson out, and pauses, turning to see if Clarke was talking to her. Instead, she sees Clarke and Bellamy facing one another, their eyes locked. Byrne still stands in the corner behind them, watching them warily, but Abby has seen something like this before and already knows it will do no good to listen. 

Clarke and Bellamy don’t speak. They don’t need to. They converse without words, without body language even. They simply look at each other, reading the slightest shifts in one another’s expressions. Clarke worries her lip, Bellamy nods with just a dip of his chin; Bellamy’s brow raises, Clarke’s eye glints; his cheek raises fractionally, her lips quirk. Determination settles across both of their expressions and spreads into their stances almost simultaneously. They turn in unison and walk determinedly in the opposite direction without sparing even a glance at anyone or anything else in their vicinity. 

Cold anxiety spreads throughout her body as she watches them move in tandem. They go separate ways without a word, but never lose that air of purpose. Of every horrible, troubling thing she has come across on the ground, this is perhaps the most unsettling. She _knew_ things were different, that her daughter was different, but she never thought for a moment that she was this different. That in the short time Clarke had been on the ground, things could change so drastically. 

Almost everything here is unexpected, but the way that her daughter seems to be able to effortlessly communicate with the boy using nothing but the tilt of her head and the twitch of her eye is by far the most dangerous force she has come up against. 

  


* * *

**Murphy**

Sometimes Murphy wonders how he gets himself in these fucked up situations. Here he is, standing at the top Commanders Tower with medical equipment spread thought the room and a possessed horde ready to attack at any second, but then he looks over to Bellamy and Clarke and it all makes sense. It always comes back to those two for him. Them and their inability to simply let things go. 

He knew that they were going to be a problem for him almost right from the start, Clarke with her self-righteous know it all attitude and Bellamy with aggressive, _I'm the boss stance,_ but he didn’t realize the problem that they would pose together. That was his undoing. 

For too long, he had been trapped, beaten down over and over again in that tin can in the sky until there wasn’t much of anything left. Then, once they were on the ground, free in a way he’d never been before, that manifested in ways that even he knows now were too far. But, of course, neither of them cared to see that, too wrapped up in themselves to consider him apart from how he could be useful (Bellamy) or how he could be a problem (Clarke). 

He was an asshole, he’ll own that, but they weren’t saints either. Not when they were hanging him from a tree, condemning him for a crime he didn’t commit, nor when they were chasing him from the only home he’d known on the ground in the dark of night. 

Looking back, it’s clear that they were lugging their own baggage around with them, a lifetime of expectation and obligation, but it’s easy for him to continue to wear the resentment on his shoulders; he’s been doing it his whole life. Plus, in their own way, they both have always strived to save people, to protect their people at any cost, and somehow, someway, he just didn’t make the cut. 

Of course he didn’t, because they were both idiots, too stuck in their own ways to consider that maybe just maybe, they didn’t have all the answers they thought they did. It was their loss though; people have been dismissing him for as long as he can remember and so far, it’s always worked out a hell of a lot better for him than for them. 

Yet for all that he hated them, despised the morally superior way in which they treated him, how they looked at him with thinly veiled disgust when he returned to them, sick and weary, he was fascinated by the way they worked together. Back then, they didn’t even like each other, not much more than they liked him anyway, but they respected each other, they were willing to hear each other out if only so that they could argue their position. It was strange, probably the most bizarre thing he’s ever seen and that includes the two-headed deer, but it was intoxicating. 

They valued the other’s opinion even when they didn’t agree, worked together even if they didn’t want to. Sometimes, sitting alone in the cold forest or in the dry desert, he’d wonder what his life would look like if he had that; if he had someone who would run into danger for him. He thinks about it now as he remembers Bellamy’s restlessness to get to Clarke before pushing it away hastily. Thoughts like that only lead him down a miserable path. He’s been a lone wolf for as long as he can remember and it’s better that way, for him. For Bellamy and Clarke, it’s a different story. 

Apart, they were both forces to be reckoned with, but together, well together, they were virtually unstoppable. And now, when it’s clear that barely concealed contempt has turned into something more, he knows that they will somehow make it through this, if only just to spite him. That is why, despite all odds, he’s still standing here. With them together, he has faith that they will somehow make it through freaky blood transfusions and an enemy that feels no pain. 

He may be a survivor, but they are something else entirely. Somehow, they always manage to come out on top; together. If he’s honest with himself (which he’s not), that’s the other reason he’s here. Despite all that the two of them have gone through, the ups and the downs he’s sure that they have had in his absence, they still fight for each other. 

There's something sickeningly inspiring about that. He hears the sound of the horde down below and idly wonders where Emori ended up. Wonders if she’s safe or if she’s one of the many currently crawling up the side of the tower, but then just as quickly, he banishes the thought. He’s got more pressing concerns right now. 

From his place beside the only mostly dead Ontari, Murphy watches as Abby switches the valve on the tubing and black blood starts to replace red. It's time, no going back now. 

“Hey, try doing that upside down,” Bellamy teases Clarke from his customary position by her side, trying to break the tension that’s settled over them, but it what he doesn’t say that catches Murphy’s attention. 

As Bellamy looks at her, something in his expression shifts like he can hear her saying something the rest of them can’t. Murphy’s eyes flick back to Clarke, trying to see what the other man saw, but it’s no use. Clarke looks the same as always, determined and resolute; slightly cold, unreachable. 

He looks over to Abby, wondering if she can see what’s happening, but she’s steadily ignoring the duo. He turns away too, suddenly uncomfortable witnessing what appears to be an intimate moment. He looks away, but then he looks back. There’s something there, something between them that he doesn’t understand, and he desperately wants to even if only so that he can say he does. 

There are tiny changes. Clarke’s eyes widen slightly, Bellamy’s hand twitches at his side, the corners of Bellamy’s lips turn up, and then, after a second of hesitation, Clarke’s moves to match. Back and forth they go, communicating using some secret language while Murphy catalogs it all. He notes every detail that takes place in that fraction of a minute, but they still haven’t added up to mean anything concrete to him when Abby interrupts, placing a hand on Clarke’s shoulder. 

All he is left with is a distinct feeling of how different their relationship is now. Back then, they could pass thoughts back and forth with alarming ease, decide his fate with the nod of a head or the quirk of an eyebrow, but now it’s emotions that pass between them. A hint of fear, the feeling of helplessness, a glimmer of hope. 

And more than that, it somehow seems to continue even without direct eye content. While Clarke watches her Mom, comforting her with words that Murphy doesn’t care to hear, Bellamy shifts beside her and inexplicably, Clarke seems to gather strength; her eyes clear and her shoulders stiffen. 

It's confusing and strange and just too much. 

“If it doesn’t work, she dies,” he tells Abby, stepping forward to interrupt the spoken and unspoken conversations, “If she doesn’t try, then she dies with the rest of us when the climbers get here.” 

He doesn’t hesitate when the chip is placed in his hand or when he sees Clarke take hold of Bellamy’s hand out of the corner of his eye. They can do this. He's with Bellamy and Clarke for fuck sakes, together, they can get through anything.

* * *

**Octavia**

For all the time Octavia spent living in fear of discovery on the Ark, there's only one instance she when she truly, desperately feared she would die. 

She was twelve, her whole body ached with a fever while every breath caused her lungs to burn. Bellamy held her in his arms, her body tucked tightly against his as if he could shield her from the pain and horror he felt. Her mother stood at their side, holding Octavia's hand in a death grip. Octavia can still clearly remember their wide, terrified eyes as they looked at each other over her wheezing body, both knowing that pneumonia was deadly. She could almost taste the desperation and hopelessness in the air; an acid so potent because there was absolutely nothing either of them could do to help her. 

The parallels between that moment and this one are almost too much to bear. 

Her body aches and her lungs burn, each breath she takes wheezes out of her lips while Bellamy holds her against him, once more using his body as both comfort and a shield. Clarke stands beside them, her grip on Octavia's hand every bit as strong as the one her mother used back when all she knew was their tiny compartment on the Ark. 

Although, this moment, this one is infinitely worse, because now, the despair she feels is her own. When she was younger, a small part of her was always comforted by the knowledge that even if she died, her brother and mother would still be okay. They'd be safe even, for the first time she was born. The despair was theirs to carry, but not anymore. 

This time it is hers, because she knows as she watches the ship that was meant to be their salvation burn that there is no silver lining here. She knows that she will always feel like she failed, because she couldn't stop it. Looking around, she sees the same look of horrified helplessness is reflected not only on the faces of her little family but on the faces of the large crowd. She knows that almost all of them will die now. 

The guilt has its own taste; a bitterness so overwhelming that it sharpens every other unpleasant sensation. Even that is a parallel she’d rather not face right now. 

While she’s far too exhausted to express her own guilt outwardly, it’s there, applying painful pressure to every inch of her already battered and bruised body. She remembers the way her brother wore his guilt outwardly; the way that it radiated from every inch of her brother’s frame, turned down the corners of his eyes and was only held back by the tight clench of his jaw. He blamed himself for her illness because it had come from one of the other cadet’s training with him to join the guard. 

It hadn’t stood out at the time because Bellamy always looked at her like that, as far back as she could remember. _How was she to know?_ She had never interacted with anyone outside of their little family, nor had she ever seen the way he interacted with people who weren’t her. Then they came to the ground and everything changed. 

Until she was locked up, their lives had been inextricably woven together in a way that isolated both them from the rest of the universe. Her brother had been her entire world. She used to envy his ability to go out into the rest of the Ark, to interact and have his own life separate from her because she hadn’t realized how much he held himself back for her. She knows better now, has known better since she saw him standing aboard the Dropship when it shouldn’t have been possible, let alone something he chose to do. 

The ground changes things, though. It changes everything given enough time. She and Bellamy were no exception, and neither was their relationship. 

In the sky, all they had was each other. Down here, they each found new relationships. She finally had the opportunity to live and grow, to explore, connect with new people, and forge her own relationships. She made friends. She fell in love with Lincoln, and he became her new safe harbor. 

Bellamy’s world also stopped revolving around her survival and shifted to include his own. Not that he ever gave up trying to do everything for her, but he had to look after himself now too; without him, there was no one to protect her. Something changed when she wasn’t looking, however, and suddenly his purpose shifted from single-handedly keeping her safe to protecting all the delinquents alongside Clarke. 

Things had changed in ways she never would have imagined when she stepped foot on the ground. 

There was a time Bellamy would have killed himself to make her happy, but he had killed her happiness. 

There was time she would have forgiven her brother for anything, but the girl she was back then died with Lincoln. 

There was time she couldn’t imagine being this close to her brother again too, after the role he played in Lincoln’s death, but things change. 

As she watches the Ark collapse on itself, the death of their back-up plan lost with it, she thinks that perhaps she can forgive him someday. That faint hope is enough to allow her to take some comfort from her brother’s nearness. 

Even Clarke’s presence makes it easier, against all odds. She knows why though. It’s because there was a time when the only person Bellamy would have done anything for was her. Now, Clarke was on that list too, despite all that they had been through. They had not only survived all the different opinions, the arguments, the disappointments, destruction, and betrayals but had come out stronger for it. 

She has seen it countless times, but it never ceases to amaze her when she gets the opportunity to watch them like she is now. They’re witnessing the destruction of something they worked so hard for, something that has cost them so much, and yet they’re still working together. Even though the haze of pain and grief she feels, she struggles to keep her eyes open so that she doesn’t miss it. 

The fire still rages before them, casting both their faces in bright orange light despite the dark sky behind them, allowing her to see it all easily. There is worry there in both of their expressions, dejection, and fear too, each mirroring the other without even being aware of it. Then she sees their eyes meet one another’s and it is understanding and determination that passes between them. The fear and worry still linger, but they pass strength to one another too. 

She knows her brother better than anyone, well enough that when she sees the reassuring, steady look he gives Clarke, she hears the ghost of the words, “It’s going to be okay” as he said to her countless times growing up. She doesn’t know Clarke as well, but she can see the way the mist in her eyes dissipates as she soaks up Bellamy’s gaze. She feels it too, in the way her hand is tugged slightly as Clarke straightens her posture, preparing herself as she looks back to the destruction. 

But then she sees Clarke’s gaze land on Ilian, and guilt flashes across her features. She looks to Bellamy again, like he is the only thing that can reassure her when her confidence falters. Bellamy doesn’t fail her, looking back at her with a gaze that is both resolute and compassionate. He doesn’t shake his head or do anything at all that indicates a dismissal, but the pain still fades from Clarke’s expression and she exhales in relief, quirking her lips in the slightest bit. 

Octavia watches the exchange with some measure of both jealousy and sadness, but mostly resentment. She knows what she just witnessed; Bellamy offering Clarke forgiveness, and Clarke thanking him for it. They make it look easy. 

It’s not the first time they’ve done this. It is far from it, in fact. She saw it when they were reunited after the grounder attack and Mount Weather, when Clarke left and when she didn’t come back, when he ignored Clarke’s warnings and went against her with Pike, and countless other times she cannot name. They have forgiven each other for terrible things; horrible words and even worse actions. They _always_ forgive one another. 

Without a word between them and only the slightest of gestures, they can do what she isn’t even sure she wants to with time. Without Lincoln, Bellamy is the closest thing she has to someone she can count on. Because even if she hates him, even if she pushes him away, he’ll never truly give up on her. Even if some part of her weren’t certain of that before, watching him with Clarke has reaffirmed that belief. 

If he hasn’t given up on Clarke, if the two of them can overcome everything they’d done both together and to one another, and still manage to forgive and move forward stronger, then it is possible that she can do the same. 

Then again, she doesn’t think she wants to. Forgiveness may come easily to them, but she thinks it comes too easily. 

Clarke doesn’t deserve his forgiveness, not after leaving Bellamy behind. It was that more than anything that broke him and left him susceptible to Pike. Had she been there, none of it would have happened; the two are so intertwined that none of their sins are independent of each other. For that reason, there will always be part of her that blames Clarke as much as she does Bellamy. 

Clarke forgave Bellamy for his sins though, and now he feels like he is entitled to forgive her for hers. 

They are both fools. 

They forgive and forget, then hurt each other again and again. She’s spent far too much of her life dependent on her brother, and he has hurt her more than enough for a lifetime, as far as she is concerned. She has no need to become caught up in the cycle they seem stuck in. 

Right now, though, right now, she hurts. She hurts and she feels a sense of morbid nostalgia for when it was only her death that was a concern and she could take comfort in her brother without hesitation. So, for now, in this moment of weakness that feels like an odd parody of back then, she’ll take whatever small comfort Bellamy and Clarke are offering with their grips on her. 

Maybe someday she’ll start to think about moving forward when the weight of their approaching death doesn’t surround them like the smoke in the air. After all, the ground changes things, just look at Bellamy and Clarke.  


* * *

**Echo**

Echo heard stories of the great Wanheda long before she met Clarke Griffin, twisted tales that varied from village to village, each one more outrageous than the last. She could kill with a single look. She'd lure lovers into her bed before killing them in their sleep. She could converse with Death himself. There were only two elements that people seemed to agree on; the first, that where ever she went, death followed her, and the second, that she always had her loyal second by her side. 

It took her a while before she learned that her ally from the cages was Wanheda’s loyal servant, but once she did, it made perfect sense. Right from the start, he seemed like the loyal type, coming back to free her when he said that he would. It was something she didn’t expect from Skykru, that type of honor; it changed her opinion of them, of him. 

Suddenly, they weren’t just the strangers who fell from the sky, but actual recognizable people with thoughts and feelings not that far off from her. She could see them as another clan, a potential ally even, but then her Queen called and like him, her loyalty was also unquestionable. Blowing up the Mount was a mission like any other, yet because he was there and because he’d offered her the chance at safety, she offered him the same. 

Never sacrificing the mission, just adapting it. She owed him a debt and she’s not one to leave that standing. 

Whatever loyalty she might have thought he possessed, though, to his word or his people or her, was nothing compared to the dedication he had to Clarke. She remembers vividly the look in his eye as she held her sword up to Clarke’s throat, threatening her and everyone around her. Up until that point, she hadn’t thought of him as dangerous, he and all of his people were weak in a way that hers weren’t. Yet, at that moment, she saw a fire in his eyes as sharp and deadly as the ice in hers. At that moment, she knew that Clarke was the key to controlling Bellamy. 

Threaten the life of the sovereign and the solders will stand down. It's a predictably reliable tactic, one that she used more than once, but there was something different to his reaction, something more in the way he cried out Clarke’s name. There was pain in his expression, a twinge of fear, two emotions that a good soldier should never show. 

There was something more, too, about the way Clarke reacted to the danger, watching Bellamy with a steadiness that seemed to pass right through her to him. Something that she didn’t really understand until she had spent years on the ark, hearing stories after story of the legendary Clarke from the mouths of the people who knew her best; the person who knew her best. 

While it’s been years since she’s thought about that time, back when she was nothing more than a solider to command, standing in the new dessert, Earth’s air whipping around her face, watching Bellamy and Clarke, it suddenly doesn’t seem that long ago. They move together in perfect harmony, communicating effortlessly as though they had been separated for days and not years. 

Part of her longs to join them, glad to finally be reunited with him, but the rest of her holds back, lingering on the edge of their conversation just watching. It’s a beautiful sight to behold. 

She knows that his loyalty to Clarke has never died, never even wavered in the six years he believed her dead. She witnessed herself the way it changed him, how he molded himself in her honor. In a lot of ways, it was what bonded them, the unwavering sense of devotion to their person, the guilt of having failed in that role, and the perseverance to continue forward. 

Yet, for all that they’ve moved forward, she knows that there’s a part of him that was always looking back, wondering what if; what if he had only done things differently, if he had just been faster. She knows those kinds of demons, they lingered in her mind for as long as she can remember and she’s so happy that he now has the chance to break free. If he’s lucky, he’ll be able to end the torturous cycle. 

Over the years, she has lost countless people, those she vowed to protect and the ones that were supposed to protect her, people she loved or looked up to, and none of them have ever come back. It seems unfathomable to her and she’s sure it did to him staring down at the burning Earth day after day, but then again maybe not. Maybe he carried the hope of seeing her again around all those years without her knowing, like a dream he didn’t dare speak of for fear it won’t come to pass. 

Either way, she’s so glad that he has a chance for peace now, to forgive himself for his past in the way that he forgave her. Maybe with Clarke back he will finally be awarded that blank slate that everyone around him seems to be granted so easily. After all, no one does forgiveness like Bellamy Blake. Aside from his loyalty, it's what she admires most about him. 

Looking across the roughly assembled camp, she watches as Clarke tilts her head to the side and a bright grin lights up his face. She's not surprised that the bond is still there between them, that kind of connect doesn’t really diminish with time, but she’s still a little startled by the form it’s taken. Back and forth they go, much more like partners than a leader and a follower. 

In her mind, that’s how she always saw them; Clarke guiding the way while Bellamy stands slightly behind her, waiting and willing to put his life on the line for her. Yet, she’s realizing now that it’s so much more than that. Bellamy’s not just loyal to Clarke, he’s devoted to her and in return, Clarke is just as devoted to him. It’s a give and take, both of them sharing and receiving in turn. 

Echo can see it in the way Clarke checks on him out of the corner of her eye when Octavia walks by without acknowledging him, with how she waits a few seconds, looking at him and comforting him without words. She's heard the terms heart and head used for them before, in hushed whispers and secret conversations back when the mere mention of Clarke would send Bellamy into his room for days without fail, but she never got it before. 

Although maybe she should have. She thinks back to Clarke's willingness to sacrifice herself to save them all and Bellamy’s anguish at having to let her do it alone. She remembers those first years on the Ark where Bellamy seemed like half a person, all the fire she’d once seen in his eyes left burring on the ground. In the back of her mind, she hears Murphy’s voice while they are teaching her chess, remarking on Bellamy, the fallen Rebel King. 

She doesn’t know how she missed it when watching them now it all seems so clear. It isn't love that she’s seeing, not like the way Bellamy treats her, but it something deep and unshakable, something she knows that she’s never had. Clarke spots her lingering on the edge of the area they’ve seated themselves at along with Madi and gestures her over. Despite the inviting smile, Echo makes no move to go to them. 

For the first time in a long time, she feels like an intruder. Then Bellamy turns and smiles at her though and she reminds herself that she loves him, all of him, that Bellamy loves her in return. She remembers his earnest words and gentle gaze from just days ago, assuring her that nothing would change on the ground. They bring her comfort. Bellamy is loyal to a fault; she can trust him. 

If there’s something more between him and Clarke, he will tell her. She doesn’t have to worry, about her happiness or his. Walking over to them, she repeats his promise to herself, nothing has to change, but as she watches him turn back to Clarke and something undecipherable pass between them, she knows that it already has. 

Taking her place beside Bellamy on the makeshift set and grabbing the pack of rations he’s offering, she contents herself to watch and wait, sure now that the legends about Wanheda and her second had it wrong. The man that stands at Wanheda's side is not her second, but rather her equal, her partner in every way.  


* * *

**Clarke**

All around them, Clarke watches as love ones reunite, the larger of the Sanctum suns rising steadily behind them. She takes a deep breath of the crisp air. They did it, they made it through the night and now they just have to rebuild. Hopefully, it was all worth it. She looks at Madi talking to Jorden, at Miller and Jackson embracing, at Raven, Murphy, and Emori laughing; it has to be. 

Her eyes land on Bellamy standing a few feet away from her, looking over the group in a similarly apprising manner, and then within seconds he’s looking back at her. He tilts his head to the side silently asking if she’s okay. She nods her head slightly in response, telling him that she’s okay, but because she doesn’t really believe it, he doesn’t either. 

It was an instinctive gesture, one that’s well-practiced with everyone else, everyone except him. Before she wouldn’t have even considered trying to fool him, now though, she’s not sure how she’s supposed to share. Now, it’s hard to remember a time when she didn’t have a choice about what she’s wanted to share, back when he could read her face as though he could read her mind. 

At first it was disorientating, having her thoughts read so easily, just another annoying trait she could add to the long list she had for him, but that didn’t last long. Quickly, it became a familiar dance, as easy and as instinctive as breathing. Whether it was mediating a disagreement between the delinquents or negotiating with the grounders, a conversation with the old ark council, or a rare night where they were free to simply be, she could always just look over to him and that would be it. 

The easy connection was one of the things she missed most during those years without him, the feeling of never being alone. For as much as she carried the weight of the world, she always knew that he would be there to help; not because she would ask, but because he would just know. Then, when he finally returned, she’d worried that it wouldn’t be the same, that the years of separation, much longer than they’d ever actually been together, would have erased the connection. 

She need not have worried though. From the moment their eyes connected again, through the haze of pain and the bright lights of the rover, she knew that everything would be okay. He looked down at her, with his familiar brown eyes and she could just hear everything he wanted to tell her, emotions she’s sure, words could never encompass. 

For that brief moment in time, everything was perfect, he was back; her missing piece, her heart had returned and it wasn’t till after that it all fell appear. Somewhere along the lines they stopped looking, stopped talking and she’s still not sure how to get back to where they once were. If it’s possible, but more importantly, if they should. 

She tries to force her face into a more peaceful expression and instantly, his mouth thins into a concerned line. A thrill goes through her; he gets her, doesn’t need to be told that she’s holding back, and really, that’s all she’s longed for. Still, she reminds herself to be cautious, for herself, but also for him. Back and forth they go, taking without words until finally, she gives up and allows him to see the truth in her eyes. 

His expression softens, telling her that she did what she had to in a way to feels so much more real than the desperate words he whispered to her before. A rush of gratitude hits Clarke so strong that her breath catches in her throat and her eyes start to glisten. She’s lost so many people, too many, but she managed to keep him. And while it’s not exactly how she’d like to have him, it’s enough. More than enough. She’s so thankful. 

This time, the smile that finds its way onto her face is genuine so he returns it within a second, all the emotions she’s sure are on her face, reflected back at her. They are a team, the two of them, and she wouldn’t change that for the world. 

They are still smiling at each other when Gabriel comes over to tell Bellamy that it’s time to go, patting him on the shoulder with a familiarity she’s not sure is warranted. It's not until Bellamy’s brow has furrowed in obvious concern for her that she realizes her face has fallen. Forcing the smile back into her face, even though they both know it’s all for show, she tips her to him in goodbye. _Perhaps one day they won’t always be saying goodbye._

He grins at her, a sad little grin like he has the exact same wish for the future and then turns to follow Gabriel, hesitating only a few more seconds. She watches him go because it’s impossible not to watch him go; there’s only so much strength inside of her and he’s always been her weakest point. 

She’s just started the count down in her head, the one that tells her it’s time to let him go and keep pushing forward when suddenly he stops. She watches mesmerized as he leans over to say something to Echo and then he’s walking back towards her with purpose in his step. Before she has a chance to ask what’s happening, he’s taken her hand and is leading her into one of the classrooms. She follows him easily; the truth is she’ll follow him just about anywhere, no questions asked. 

“We don’t talk,” he says in a rush as soon as he’s closed the door behind him. 

“What?” she starts to question, but he keeps going as though his life or maybe just his sanity, hinges on his ability to get them out. 

“We’ve never needed to. Almost right from the start, I could just look at you and know what you were thinking, how you were feeling, as clearly as if your thoughts were landing in my head. It was useful and infuriating.” 

She smiles slightly, thinking about them back then, but he’s continuing before she can voice any of the memories swirling behind her eyes. 

“And I just...” he trails off, looking around the room they are in for the first time. His eyes tighten and his jaw clenches. When he looks back at her, there’s something desperate in his gaze, something close to panic. “it’s not enough, I have to actually say it because the thought of you not knowing has haunted me long enough. Clarke, I—” 

“Bellamy, don’t” she cuts him off, finally realizing where he’s going with this. She knows what he’s going to say, the words that she’s seen reflected back at her for a long, long time and she can’t let him. Not like this. 

“Why not?” he asks and the anguish in his voice nearly makes her knees buckle. His eyes widen and there’s a new hesitance to his voice “if you don’t...” 

Stepping forward, closing the small gap of space between them, Clarke places a hand on either side of his face, “Of course, I do!” How could he ever think otherwise? 

“Then why?” He doesn’t make any attempt to escape her embrace, but there’s a vulnerability in his face that she can stand to look at. 

She focusses on the drawings that line the wall behind him while she answers, not even trying to hide the devastation from her voice. “Because it’s not going to help, because you’re going to leave, and a million other—” 

“I love you.” 

If she had been looking at him, she might have seen it coming, but as it is, the declaration hits her full force. For a second, it’s like all the air has been sucked out of her lungs like she’s lost the ability to breathe, but then she looks into his eyes. There she can see all the other things he hasn’t said, all the promises he has yet to make and it’s so achingly familiar that her world reorients itself. 

Then she’s grinning and crying and laughing because for as great as it is seeing the emotion reflected in his eyes, hearing it is a million times better. Tracing her thumb across his cheek, she catches a stray tear running down his cheek, “say it again?” 

“I love you,” he tells her with the brightest grin she’s ever seen on his face, “I lived in a world without you before then I almost had to do it again and I can’t do it, I won’t. You’re my family and my best friend. You’re my...” 

“Partner,” she finishes for him, reading the answer in the way that he’s looking at her, in the way that his hands have fallen to rest comfortably on her waist. 

“Exactly,” he says, looking at her in awe. Faintly, she feels her cheeks start to warm. Really, he shouldn’t be surprised that she can read him. 

She doesn’t say anything, not quite sure what to say or how to say it. After all this time, the thought of trying to put all that she feels for him into words seems insurmountable. He’s always been better with that, launching into inspiring speeches and giving motivational talks whenever she needed the boost. In the heat of the moment, he simply knows what to say so she’s not surprised when he continues. 

“I know I’m going to leave,” he adds on slightly more somber, “but, Clarke, one of us is always leaving, going off to protect everyone else and I’m tired of half finished sentences and unspoken promises. I want more than that. We deserve more th—” 

Suddenly, she knows what to do. Stepping forward, she wraps her arms around him more fully, burrowing her head into is neck like she’s done so many times before. He pulls her closer, holding on to her as tightly. It’s amazing like it always is, her truest definition of home, but he’s right, they both deserve more than this. 

“I love you too,” she tells him softly, caked with the weight and emotion behind the confession. 

He holds on a little tighter, pressing a kiss onto the top of her head and she just _knows_ that they are going to be alright.


End file.
